


Hermione's Christmas Cracker

by moonfairy13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Good Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Pranks and Practical Jokes, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfairy13/pseuds/moonfairy13
Summary: A year and a half after she saved his twin brother and thus his own sanity, George Weasley wants to give Hermione Granger the Christmas present of her dreams. But will his efforts end in holiday happiness?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little fluffy holiday present for Fremione lovers and anyone who enjoys Christmas fluff. It comes in nine installments, which I will be posting like an advent calendar every two to three days between now and Christmas Eve, 2018. Enjoy, and happy holidays! Comments are always appreciated and used as writing fuel! :-)

It was the sixth of December. Definitely time to think about some Christmas shopping. With her own parents lost and no other blood relatives to speak of, Hermione Granger had gratefully accepted Molly’s invitation to spend the holiday season with the Weasleys at The Burrow. She was planning to head over on the afternoon on Christmas Eve and then stay until Boxing Day or perhaps beyond, and she was looking forward to it immensely. Her work at the Ministry tended to wind down towards the end of the year, giving her more time than she wanted to think about being alone.

As she walked slowly down Diagon Alley, enjoying the sparkling lights and the sound of carols, Hermione stopped to buy a mug of mulled wine from a street vendor. She sipped the warming liquid as she continued on her way, peering into the frosted windows of the gift shops and planning her gift purchases for the family who had adopted her and welcomed her into their hearts. 

Upon reaching the tall building with the orange and purple doors, she drained the remainder of the wine and held the mug aloft. Whispering the words that activated the charm placed on it by the vendor, she watched it slowly rise into the air before taking itself safely back to its owner. Steeling herself for the volume of noise that she knew would greet her inside Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, Hermione pushed open the door and entered the joke shop.

Almost immediately, a small furry object sailed past her left ear, and she automatically moved her head to one side.

“Sorry, Hermione!” A familiar voice called from the counter. Hermione didn’t need to look over to know who owned the voice. She had never had any problem distinguishing the owner from his brother, by sight or sound. Or in any other sensory dimension, come to that.

“Hi Fred!” She smiled and waved at the tall redheaded man who was, as usual, grinning widely. It was clear to all that he was truly living his dream, along with his twin brother George. They had come so close to being separated by the horror of the last battle of the wizarding war, and indeed several people had declared Fred to be amongst the dead. But then Hermione had leaned down to kiss his handsome face, tears cascading from her eyes as she said her final goodbye, and felt the slightest movement of his breath upon her cheek. 

Quickly, she had set to work, casting spells, summoning help and being instrumental in his survival. She had wiped away her tears and brought back the man who she had grown up with. As a result, his twin regularly and publicly declared himself her eternal servant, and today was no exception. 

“Hermione! What’s a gorgeous, clever little witch like you doing in a shop like this?” Once he had reached her, George’s hug was tight, long and as full of feeling as ever. Angelina, his girlfriend, waved to Hermione from the other side of the store, shouting to George to make sure he didn’t break their friend. He raised his hand in acknowledgement, but didn’t release his grip on Hermione for a good few seconds more. When he did, he took her mittened hand in his own much larger one, and led her to see the shelf displaying their newest holiday gift range.

“Check this out, love,” he told her. “Just let me know what you fancy, and you’ll have a lovely full stocking come Christmas morning. Although…” he looked around, to check that none of the customers or staff were close enough to hear, “just so you know, love, I’m going to give you what you most want for Christmas this year.”

Hermione huffed, unable to resist glancing across the shop to where his brother was entertaining a couple of second year Hogwarts students with a demonstration of their new exploding quill range. She highly doubted that even her greatest fan could make that dream come true. 

George had always been very quick and highly observant, so there was no chance he would miss that small movement of her eyes. Grinning, he moved even closer to Hermione and she felt his breath on the shell of her ear. “Oh I am, love. I’m not sure how I’ll manage the gift wrap, but I’ve finally worked out a way of giving you the Christmas treat that you’ve been dreaming of these long years…”

He paused for dramatic effect but stayed still for a moment before whispering into her ear the three words that both confirmed Hermione’s greatest hope and - if George was involved - fuelled her greatest fear. 

“Frederick Gideon Weasley.”

His eyes flashed with delight, promise and just a little bit of mischief as he pulled back and continued to show Hermione the gift shelf, acting as if nothing unusual had happened. But Hermione’s heart was beating a tattoo and her mind was racing. How had George managed to figure out that she was holding a torch for his twin? What mad scheme did he have in mind for her? And how on earth was she going to cope with a Weasley Christmas if her greatest secret – her love for Fred – was revealed to everyone?

She was going to need more mulled wine.


	2. Chapter 2

“About my Christmas gift, George…”

“Yes, Hermione?” His voice was smooth and amused as he stacked shelves. Hermione fell into the subconscious rhythm of passing things to him with her wand as she addressed the issue that had been at the back of her mind for nearly two weeks now. She had twice seen him – and his allegedly identical but in her opinion slightly more gorgeous brother – at Sunday dinner at The Burrow since his announcement and twice found herself going home without saying anything. But today work had been quiet and she had vowed to come to the shop in her lunch hour and have a serious conversation with the man whose words had got her worrying.

“Well I was thinking … couldn’t you just get me some chocolate for Christmas? I love Honeydukes’ new chocolate truffles. That would be an excellent present. Or perhaps a book voucher? I adore having book vouchers to spend in the new year!”

George looked shocked. He leaned down again, in that annoying habit he had of speaking right into her ear in the voice that sounded oh so much like the one she really wanted to be whispering into her ear. And he full well knew it. “Don’t you know it’s terribly rude to refuse a holiday gift, Hermione? And this one’s like a Weasley jumper. It comes from the heart, and I’ve been working on it all year.” He chuckled a bit at his own joke before continuing. “No, you’ll have the gift I want to give you and you’ll love it.”

He straightened a bit, and then leaned down again, having thought of something else. “It’s non-returnable, too. You can’t give it back. Once I’ve given it to you, this is a gift for life. Like a Pygmy Puff, but taller and slimmer.” He tipped his head and scrunched up his nose, as if considering. “And a bit more orange than pink.”

When he straightened up again this time, Hermione was pleased to see that he stayed there, unable to think of anything else he needed to add. She was going to have to tell him the truth. “I’m worried, George…” She bit her lip. She was afraid that he was going to do something that would change the friendly relationship she had with the boys, or even with the Weasleys in general. That was the main reason that she had never acted on her feelings towards Fred.

Long arms went around her waist and a face was pressed to hers. “You think too much, lovely. Don’t worry. This isn’t scary. It’s a lovely thing. It’s the Christmas present you’ll tell your grandchildren about.”

“Just don’t embarrass me too much, please? Or threaten my relationship with any of your family? You’re all I have now…”

Her eyes were wide and sparkling and George realised that action was needed. His casual hug turned into a fierce cuddle. “Oh bugger, is that what you’re worried about, love? I would never do that. This is a happy gift, love. It’s not going to threaten anything. How about if I promise to run it all past Angie and get her approval on everything? She won’t let me do anything terrible to muck things up or hurt you? Mmmmm?”

He felt Hermione nod into his chest and gave her body one more squeeze before kissing the top of her head and releasing her. “You’re very special to me, love. To all of us. I want to do something nice for you, not hurt or upset you.”

“I know, George.” Hermione reached for his hand. “I just feel quite … tender, still.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah, I know, love. That’s why you need your present. You’re not the only one.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and happy thoughts so far! And I want to especially thank fairylightinthenight and turnthepage21, who knew about this ahead of time and helped me figure out the timing, ideas and prank/fluff proportion :-)

“Oh, brill!” George’s voice was as loud and as cheerful as usual as he strode across the floor of the shop to greet Hermione as she entered the door, setting off another round of holiday songs in the process. “You are JUST the witch I need! Happy Christmas Eve, love!”

“You know we’re all going over to The Burrow soon, George?” Hermione asked. “Your mum’s got the eggnog and mulled wine on. Bill, Fleur and Victoire are there already, and Charlie’s flooing over at four. We thought the two of you might want to stay open for a bit longer, but I told Ron and Harry that I would pop in to let you know anyway. They’re in the pub waiting.”

“Actually, Fred and I have offered Verity and the others double pay to work a bit later, and they’re all happy to have the extra galleons, so he and I are free agents. We’ll come with you now if you give me two minutes of your muggle expertise before we go?” 

Hermione followed George to the main counter, where her favourite Weasley man was in the middle of magically wrapping a pile of gifts for a witch who had a small set of twins of her own as well as an older child. She was looking a bit harassed to still be out in the Diagon Alley crowds. “If you write down your address, love,” Fred was saying to the woman, “I’ll get Verity to floo the gifts over so you don’t have to carry them. And if we’re still open when you’re done then you’re welcome to come back and use our floo to get home; it’s no trouble.” Hermione’s heart warmed at his thoughtfulness. 

Once he had finished helping the customer, Fred turned to Hermione with a blinding grin and his arms held out wide. She stepped into them and, as usual, felt the heady combination of the love and comfort that she experienced when she received a Weasley hug from any of his family mixed with the internal fireworks that went off, wholly unbidden, any time this particular Weasley brother pressed her face to his rather muscular, warm chest. They exchanged greetings and, still enjoying the security of his arms, Hermione leaned back to meet his eyes and ask how his day had been. 

“So busy … I’m looking forward to sitting down with a big glass of mum’s eggnog!” he confessed. “But we’ve done amazingly well financially, so I’m not complaining.”

Before she could reply, Hermione heard George’s loud voice again. He had wandered off and was now returning to the counter with Verity in tow. “Put him down, Hermione, you don’t know where he’s been!” She blushed a little, and stepped out of Fred’s embrace to greet and hug Verity in the hope of hiding her response to having been caught enjoying her time in Fred’s arms. 

“Go on boss, you’re off the clock now.” Verity pointed her wand at the till, keying it to her magical signature and signing Fred off. 

“Woooo, Merry Christmas to me!” Fred’s voice was just as loud as George’s and he gave Verity a bow of thanks and an envelope from the pocket of his robes before turning to his brother. “Are we all off to mum and dad’s then? Or having a quick drink in the pub first?” 

“In a minute,” said George, casually. “I need Hermione’s help with one thing before we leave. In fact, you can help too, Freddie, seeing as you’re here.” He showed them the brightly coloured object that he was holding in his hand. “I’ve been working on smaller Christmas crackers for the kids, for Christmas dinner tomorrow, but I want to test the spring length first. Here, pull for me, you two, would you…”

Without giving either of them time to think, George held the middle of the cracker and dropped it slightly, making Fred and Hermione instinctively reach for an end of the cracker. 

“Ready? One, two, three, go…” George was as smooth as silk, and neither of them had time to get suspicious. But as soon as they heard the pop and saw the cascade of glittery sparks jump into the air along with the usual colourful spring that was a traditional element of the twins’ crackers, Hermione and Fred realised that something was different. A silver chain had shot out from the inside of the cracker and fastened itself around each of their right wrists, binding them to each other. 

Hermione’s eyes widened as the action brought an old memory to mind, but she forgot about that as George used the element of surprise and a quick, quiet expelliarmus to take each of their wands, sliding them together into his robes.

But that wasn’t all. As with all good muggle crackers, there was a gift, a tiny scroll of paper and a paper hat. No, Hermione realised as she watched the rest of the cracker’s contents magically distribute themselves according to George’s will, two paper hats. 

Orange, of course. 

One of them settled itself on each of her and Fred’s heads and Hermione gasped to see that her hair immediately turned a bright shade of Slytherin green. Fred’s hat didn’t change his hair colour though, and Hermione stared at it for a second, wondering what it would do instead. Before she could come up with a theory, however, the gift – a small black box with a single red button on – spiralled in the air and then fell into Fred’s left hand as the scroll of rolled up paper wafted into her own.

“George?” She found her words before Fred did. The younger twin grinned. 

“Merry Christmas, my two favourite people! Enjoy your Christmas Eve gift!”

Fred began to laugh. “What’re you playing at, Georgie?!”

George clapped his brother on the back. “You’ll figure it out, mate. And I’ve made sure you won’t miss out on the eggnog!”

Fred looked confused. “Miss out? But we’re all about to go to mum’s, right?”

“Weeeeell, kind of…” George looked at his watch and then took a step back, waving. “You two have a lovely time, and I’ll see you later. Well, unless you get a better offer,” he cackled with a wink at his brother. “Oh and you might want to hold onto your gifts carefully. The cracker’s a portkey and,” he stepped back and looked at the clock above the counter, “three, two, one … love you both, byeeee…”


	4. Chapter 4

When they landed, Fred’s beater reflexes kicked in and he reached out to make sure Hermione stayed on her feet. Unfortunately, he hadn’t yet figured out that the chain connecting their right wrists was only about a foot long and he unintentionally yanked her arm across her body in the process, making her let out a small squeal and causing her paper hat to slip off her head and fall onto the carpet. Hermione’s hair remained green even without it, but Fred thought it best not to mention that.

“Oh Gods, sorry love,” Fred was quick to assess the situation, dropping the remainder of the broken cracker and taking her wrist into both of his large hands, rubbing it better with his thumbs. He noticed that the chain that bound them together was made in the shape of tiny sprigs of mistletoe. “Georgie, what the hell have you done to us?”

Hermione looked up quickly. She had more of an idea of what George had done than his brother had, and she could have kicked herself for not realising that it would be just like a Weasley twin to pounce early. Since their conversations earlier in the month, she had been readied for some kind of trick or surprise on Christmas morning, but of course George would have realised that. She really needed to up her game and think more strategically when she was dealing with one of the twins. She was cross and unsure about what was happening and wondered how Fred was taking his brother's actions. She tried to assess that as he looked around and when she heard Fred quietly swear under his breath as he recognised his and George’s old bedroom at The Burrow, she saw that his handsome face looked amused and intrigued rather than cross. Hermione decided to take a few deep breaths before speaking; it wasn't Fred's fault they were here, after all.

George had clearly spent some time on this prank. Fred’s bed had been transfigured into a large armchair, and it was the only piece of soft furniture left in the room. Hermione realised that the combination of this and the chain tying them to each other meant that, if they wanted to sit, they would need to share the chair and squish in close. Clever, sneaky, meddling Georgie.

George’s bed was nowhere to be seen. In its place was an odd-looking TV screen sitting in a large bowl on the other. “Is that a modified pensieve?” Fred’s voice was incredulous.

Hermione stepped forward to look, and Fred adjusted their position so that he stood close behind her while they inspected the curious arrangement. That gave them the most leeway given the attached state of their right wrists. “It does look like one,” Hermione remarked, tracing the ancient runes marking the side of the bowl with the fingers of her left hand. “What on earth has he done?”

“Merlin only knows,” Fred laughed, bringing his own hand around her to feel the stone bowl. Hermione found she felt a bit calmer again for his closeness and good humour at being up here with her rather than downstairs where more of the Weasley family would now be gathering. “Let’s just try something; can you come to the door with me, love?”

Hermione obeyed, and Fred reached his hand out to try the handle. It didn’t budge. “Well I would have put money on that,” he said wryly, “but we needed to try. OK, shall we assess the situation?”

“Good idea.” If there was a silver lining to be found in this moment, it was that Hermione liked a good puzzle. “This is like one of those muggle locked room games, although I’m not sure whether George would have heard of them or if he came up with this independently.”

“What’s the idea with those then?” Before she could answer, Fred was guiding Hermione across to the other side of the room so that he could check the window, but George had secured everything. They both looked out to see Charlie helping Teddy make a snowman down in the garden. Bill was standing nearby and looked to be offering guidance, mulled wine in hand and a snugly wrapped Victoire strapped to his chest in a sling. Fred knocked loudly on the window with his free hand, but nobody looked up. The action did, however, make him realise that he was still holding the small black box, and he looked at it carefully while giving Hermione his assessment. “Silencing spells, too. Bet they can’t hear us in the house, either, even though we can hear their Christmas music.” 

He was right, she realised. They could hear the muggle Christmas CD that Molly liked to play on the stereo that Arthur had rigged up in the kitchen. Fred pulled a face. “I think we’re stuck, love. No-one will think to come up here while there’s all that going on downstairs. They don’t even know we’ve arrived.”

Hermione sighed. “Unless your mum looks at her clock, but he’s thought of everything. Probably been plotting this for months. Locked room games are when you get shut in somewhere and you need to solve a puzzle or complete an activity before you can get out. Usually you get clues to start you off. You can’t escape until you’ve completed the task or solved the puzzle. Though I think if you haven’t done it by a certain time you get let out anyway…”

“So we just have to bed down and wait it out?”

“Maybe … though this is George…” She let that thought hang in the air, and Fred nodded.

“Best to figure out what he wants us to do, then. At least he’s left this; I’ve been running on about it all day, so I won’t need to thump him for delaying my eggnog access!” Fred indicated a small side table that Hermione hadn’t yet spotted. It held a jug of Molly’s eggnog, two glasses and an array of mince pies under a warming charm. Next to them was a plate of Christmas cookies and – oh joy – a small bowl of Hermione’s favourite truffles. Feeling a tiny tad warmer towards the younger twin, she reached for one and popped it into her mouth, making a happy noise as the chocolate melted on her tongue. “That looks pretty sinful,” Fred teased, and she took another from the bowl and held it to his mouth, feeling a small thrill when his bottom lip accidentally brushed against her thumb as he took the treat from her fingers.

“We have these too,” she indicated the box in his hand and held up her own hand to show him the scroll. 

Fred nodded. “OK, well how about we assess the damage? I’ve been on my feet all day; do you mind if I sit down?”

“Gods no, Fred, why would I mind? The store looked crazy!”

“Well because you’ll need to come with me, love. Georgie’s made this all very friendly…” He chuckled as he sat back in the armchair, looping his right arm around Hermione and guiding her down onto his lap. Hermione had no option but to go with him, settling her legs over Fred's. The chain tying their wrists together meant that Fred needed to keep his arm around her even after they had both settled into the cosy chair. She had to hand it to George; he had certainly achieved his aim of giving her some quality time in Fred’s arms for her Christmas present. But he surely wasn't planning to leave them cuddling in an armchair over the holidays and so, she wondered, what on earth was going to happen next?


	5. Chapter 5

“Getting cosy?” Fred teased, feeling Hermione rest her head on his shoulder.

She sighed. “I’ve had a long week too…”

He hugged her closer, and she had to remind herself that this was a very Weasley thing to do; that he was only being friendly. “Well before you nod off, shall we open this scroll George has given you and see if that gives us any clues?”

“That’s a good idea.” Hermione unrolled the scroll and looked into Fred’s eyes when she saw what it contained. “It’s a poem!” Her voice sounded excited and she sat up straight again, realising there was a small chance that this could be fun now that she had got over the initial shock of George’s plot and the fear that the portkey was going to take them somewhere unfamiliar or far from home.

“Are you going to read it for us then?” Fred used his free hand to pour them both a glass of eggnog and, with his own knees occupied by Hermione, he balanced a mince pie for each of them on her leg. Hermione clinked her glass with Fred’s, took a sip of eggnog, cleared her throat and began.

“Twas the night before Christmas and Georgie the great  
Had a plan for the man who’s his very best mate  
And also the witch who’s his favourite too  
So sit down and read; you’ll find out what to do.”

“He’s quite good at rhyming … I had no idea!” Fred exclaimed, mouth full of the mince pie that he had just bitten into, and Hermione laughed, reading on.

“Now that little black box is the key to your time  
And when you’re all done with my metrical rhyme”

“What his what?” asked Fred.

“He means after we’ve read his poem.” Hermione took the chance to drink more eggnog and take a bite of her own mince pie.

“Oh. OK, please continue when you’re ready, love.”

Handing the glass back to Fred so she could better hold the scroll, she did just that.

“Just press the button, for I’ve put on a show  
Of memories old that I want you to know.  
So yes it’s a pensieve and a TV screen too  
And be reassured that all this is true.”

“Clever,” said Fred, and Hermione agreed before reading the rest to him.

“There’s no trickery here in what I am showing  
I think I have spotted an important thing growing.  
And it’s time you both knew; that you see what I see  
For time is too short now we’re happy and free.”

Hermione took a deep breath. It was clear to her that George wanted Fred to find out how she felt about him. She chanced a glance at the wizard underneath her but couldn’t read his expression. She didn’t think he knew at the moment, though; he just seemed eager for her to read the poem to him. Perhaps, if she could think hard and fast enough, Hermione could get ahead of George and stop him from embarrassing her completely. Which, she remembered, a tad crossly, he had promised not to do.

“And there’s just one more thing for my lovely fair witch  
If you’d like your curls back, then back they will switch.  
If you just speak your truth to that brother of mine  
Tell him what I know and you’ll be done with pine.  
Swap Slytherin green for your lovely deep brown  
And once you’ve been true, you can both come on down.  
But before you come out, you need to know this  
That chain will remain til you both share a kiss.”

Hermione closed her eyes. She didn’t know what would happen when they pressed the button, but it was clear that George had ensured that the only way her hair would return to normal and the door would release was if she told Fred how she felt about him. It was equally clear that the chain was charmed only to release if the two of them kissed. She managed to restrain herself from burying her head in her hands, but she felt herself becoming warmer than would be accounted for by the eggnog alone. 

“Does that all make sense to you?” Fred was now selecting his first Christmas cookie.

Hermione nodded. “Mostly. And you?”

Fred shrugged, the cookie poised in his long fingers. He wasn't sure whether it would be a good idea to share his suspicions or not. It seemed to him that this might be an attempt at matchmaking from his brother. But experience had taught him that his instinct wasn't always right and, when unsure, it was often better to say less rather than more. He decided to hedge his bet. “I get that we need to watch something. And I don’t know what he wants you to tell me about, but clearly he’s charmed the chain to be released with a kiss like the mistletoe we have in the shop, so that bit’s easy.” He leaned forward, whispered, “May I?” and, when she nodded with a blush, gave Hermione a quick eggnog-flavoured peck on the lips.

Nothing happened. Unless one counted the fluttering of Hermione’s heart, but that wasn’t going to get them out of the twins’ childhood bedroom anytime soon.

“Oh, well maybe not quite as easy as I thought,” Fred shrugged, wondering if he had misread George's intent after all, “but what about the rest? You’re the brains of this operation, love…”

Hermione gave him a look with raised eyebrows. “Really, Fred? Even I know that you could have got just as many OWLs and NEWTs as Bill or I if it had been what you cared about. You’ve got a perfectly good brain there, so don’t you go suggesting otherwise.”

He grinned. “I love that you’ve noticed…”

“I’m not unobservant about everything!” He held her gaze, unblinking, eyebrows raised until her face collapsed into a big smile. “Well, maybe a few things!” She was remembering when he teased her mercilessly and until New Year for being the last to notice when Harry got down on one knee to propose to Ginny the Christmas before. The entire family had had to wait while Fred leaned over from his end of the sofa to gently pat Hermione’s attention away from her new book and point it onto the cute family scene that was unfolding before her oblivious eyes. 

The memory bolstered her spirit a little. They had history, her and Fred. Even though George was going to make her confess her true feelings to him, they would get over it. She would make him laugh it off; they would be OK. She would be embarrassed, but she would convince him that George was a git. They would hug it out, get out of the room and join the rest of the family for a loud, boisterous, loving Christmas holiday. 

Just as soon as they found out what George wanted them to see on the pensieve TV. Hermione suspected that no amount of kisses would release the chain until they had done that.

“Are you ready?” asked Fred, taking the black box into his hand and pointing it at the screen before biting into his cookie.

Hermione took another deep breath and a large slug of eggnog. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be…”


	6. Chapter 6

The point of the video was clear to Hermione from even the first few seconds of footage. She recalled that George had told them in the poem that these were his true memories, and she swayed between worrying about what he had seen between her and Fred over the years and feeling intrigued and privileged to watch his personal memories of their friendship. Not to mention marvelling at how he had combined muggle and magical technology in order to figure out how to show them to others. This must have taken him ages. He had clearly been telling the truth about having worked on this all year.

The film was only a few minutes long and it was a George’s-eye view of his motivation for the whole prank. The opening shot confirmed Hermione’s suspicion that the video was cleverly designed to break the news to Fred that Hermione had feelings for him. It showed all three of them on the day on which the twins had tried to put their names into the goblet of fire. Well, she thought, there was no stop button on the little black box and George had taken her wand, so all she could do was to let it play out and find out what would happen.

As Fred watched the opening shots and recalled his own memory of that day, he was reminded of how Hermione had told them that their ploy to cross Dumbledore’s age line wouldn’t work. What he hadn’t seen at the time was the look on her face when she was proven correct. George had turned just at the right moment to show her eyes full of concern as she gazed at the aged Fred. The real Fred looked at her in surprise, but that was just the beginning. 

Next, a slow love song began to play on the video, and scene after scene showed what George had seen over the years but which Fred had somehow missed. Hermione gazing at Fred when she thought no-one was looking; Hermione yelling at Fred and then being unable to prevent a soft, wistful smile from crossing her lips as she turned away; Hermione laughing at every one of Fred’s jokes; Hermione’s eyes lighting up when Fred came near. It was clear to anyone watching that Hermione had a soft spot for the elder twin. Watching, Fred briefly closed his eyes. How had he not seen this himself? 

The music changed slightly and the next scene made Hermione sit up straighter. She watched George’s memory of her coming down the common room stairs dressed for the Yule Ball, and then she saw Fred turn to him with an unreadable look in his eyes. Had she been able to see George’s own face, Fred remembered, it would have held a smirk. But all Hermione could see in the pensieve TV was Fred’s face, before hearing George whisper, “I knew you liked her, you lying git.” Memory Fred’s eyebrows raised slightly and then his eyes filled with sorrow. He shrugged, looking directly into George’s eyes and then away into the distance. “Doesn’t matter, Georgie … she likes Ron…” he whispered, as his brother turned his gaze back upon Hermione as she greeted Viktor Krum, her date for the evening.

Hermione closed her eyes. Had she really had a chance with Fred, all those years ago, and missed it? Bugger. If only she still had the time turner…

There were a few more shots of the two of them gazing at each other through the years with each remaining oblivious to the other’s possible interest; when the boys left school in a blaze of fireworks, when Hermione visited them at their newly opened shop, when they bumped into each other at Grimmauld Place and The Burrow, but they always seemed to just miss each other. Fred and Hermione were trying to keep up with watching the video and processing their own thoughts and feelings when it became clear from the music that the video was building to a grand finale. They both gasped as they realised they were seeing George’s memories of the post-battle scene. 

Towards the end of that horrid, fateful day, George had come running into the great hall to see his twin lying motionless on the ground. The video didn’t show the tears that were pouring down his face, but they showed every one of Hermione’s as she ran towards Fred, knelt beside him and took the lifeless body of the much taller wizard into her arms. 

The background song faded and they heard Hermione chant his name over and over again in a broken voice. “No, Fred, no, please. I never had a chance to tell you, Fred, please don’t go. Gods, Fred, I just kissed Ron and all I could think was that I should have been kissing you. You mean so much to me, to everyone, please don’t leave us, I don’t know how I could live without you, oh Gods, please no.” 

Hermione watched herself lean down to kiss the face of the wizard that she so clearly loved and, as her tears continued to drip down onto Fred’s face and chest, George’s memory had captured the way in which the look on her own face had turned from anguish to surprise and then to hope as she felt the slightest breath on her cheek.

Memory Hermione touched memory Fred’s lips with her fingers, and then her hands began to move over his throat and chest as she felt for a pulse. “You’re still alive,” she whispered. “Fred, come back to us! George!” she had summoned his brother’s attention and turned bossy as she worked to get George to pull himself together and assist her. “George, yell for help and then help me; we might be able to save him…” and her wand flashed in every direction as her hands worked over Fred’s body administering magical healing and muggle resuscitation and her tears fell and then dried as she focused on returning the man she loved to life. 

After a while, George’s shouts had brought healers to the scene and Hermione was gently pushed backwards, but she remained just a foot or so from Fred’s body. A warmth ran through Hermione as she remembered that she hadn’t been alone. Never alone. Memory George’s view was now of the top of her curly head as well as of his brother’s still body and it was clear to Fred that George was hugging and holding Hermione tightly on his lap as they sat next to Fred and watched healers work on him. 

When memory George looked down, Fred saw something that made tears spring to his eyes. Hermione had refused to let go of Fred’s hand, which stretched out from his body. She had brought his hand into her lap, intertwined with both of hers, and then George had surrounded their hands with his. Somehow, she and George had jointly conjured a silver chain which connected their wrists together so that the healers couldn’t separate either of them from Fred.

Fred had never realised quite how viscerally or literally the two of them had refused to let him go. Hermione and George hadn’t let him be alone or without their touch for a moment, even when his life hung in the balance, and the healers had accepted and worked with that. He wiped his eyes. In George’s memory film, Hermione was murmuring reassurances to them both as she and George watched the mediwizards treat Fred’s injuries and stabilise his condition.

“I’ll never forget this, love,” George was speaking into her ear. “No matter what happens. Gods, they had given up.”

Memory Hermione’s sobs were clear to hear. “Well they shouldn’t have. Not for Freddie. Never. We can’t lose him. He’s too precious.”

George had hugged her more tightly at that, she remembered. That had been the moment when she knew that she and George Weasley would be friends for life. No matter how crazy he might drive her with his tricks, she would always be there for him as they had been for each other on that fateful day.

The scene on the pensieve TV faded to blackness and director George had allowed the viewers a few moments to compose themselves before himself coming into view on the screen. It looked like he was in his bedroom at the flat. Frowning, Hermione couldn’t work out how he had managed that, until he spoke, with a lopsided smile. “Before you singe your brain trying to work out this bit, Hermione, Angie’s helping me. She’s watching me and is going to let me add her memory of this to my pensieve and then the video, because I can’t leave it all to my own memories.”

Video George bounced up and down a bit before he spoke again. “OK, you two. If this has gone as planned, then you’re tucked up together in our old bedroom in an armchair and chained together. With eggnog and truffles, which I thought was very considerate of me.” He winked and laughed a bit at that thought, before continuing.

“I think the memories show most of what I want to say, but there’s a bit more to add. I love you both, and I know we all needed time to heal and rebuild after the war, and maybe before now it might have been too soon, but ever since last Christmas I kept feeling that you two needed to see and know all of this, together. By yourselves, without any chance of interruption or not getting to the end. So that’s why I invented the pensieve TV and made this.”

Hermione realised that she had now fully cuddled into Fred. The memory of almost losing him was less fresh, but still painful, and she had pressed her face to his chest to hear his heartbeat. Fred’s arms had tightened around her as they listened to George’s conclusion.

“Now, this isn’t about forcing you into anything, so if you truly want to leave the room separately and go your own ways, you’ll find a magical key taped under the windowsill which will fit in the door, release everything and turn your hair back to normal, Hermione. If you want to hex me, I’ll be in the kitchen, probably getting grief from mum about why you show as being at home on the clock but she can’t find you. But please, try to see things through my eyes and you’ll see why I’d like you to follow the rest of my instructions and then think about leaving together. And Hermione,” video George’s voice broke, “whatever happens, I’ll never be able to thank you enough for saving my brother. Even if I say it every day and buy you all the chocolate truffles in Honeydukes. Which I have, by the way. They’ll be in your stocking in the morning.”

Video George grinned, saluted, blew a kiss and disappeared from the screen.


	7. Chapter 7

Fred only had one word. “Hermione?” He looked at the witch in his lap, who was still pressed to his chest. Taking her chin in his hand, he tilted her face upwards and saw that her eyes were bright and her cheeks pink. “Love, is George trying to tell me what I think he’s trying to tell me?”

Hermione gulped a little, but she gathered her Gryffindor spirit and held his gaze. “I suppose that depends on what you think he’s trying to tell you, Fred.”

Fred nodded, slowly. “Well, watching that,” he tipped his head towards the screen, without taking his eyes from Hermione’s, “I’d say he’s trying to tell me that I’ve been a blind fool.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. That wasn’t quite what she had been expecting to hear. Hermione had anticipated some teasing, maybe a gentle let-down, or even an outright rejection. But not that.

Fred had more to say. “You held my hand all the way through.”

Hermione nodded. “We both did.” She swallowed the lump in her throat that had appeared when George’s film reminded her of how close they had come to losing Fred. “We combined our magic and conjured a chain to bind all of our wrists together so they couldn’t push us any further away from you. They had to take us with you to St Mungo’s. And because George and I conjured a joint spell they couldn’t easily work out how to undo it and we stayed connected to you until we were certain you were OK.”

Fred’s mouth made an ‘O’. “That’s why he did this?” Fred lifted his hand up to show her the chain on his wrist. 

Hermione smiled. “I guess that was part of it, yes.” Then she blushed. “But he added more, by the sound of it.”

Fred grinned. “I’d say! Now I don’t want to put you on the spot, love, but I don’t especially feel like taking the easy way out. Georgie said we'd be chained together until I kissed you, and my last kiss clearly wasn’t good enough. Or maybe he charmed it not to activate til I had seen the film. So, not that I’d mind being chained to a pretty witch for the Christmas holiday, but would it be OK if I tried again?”

“Actually,” she laughed slightly, her courage growing now that she was processing his words and the dark set of his big brown eyes, “key or no key, I wouldn’t mind staying chained to you for a bit longer, Fred Weasley.”

“Is that so?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Well, _Georgie_ also said my hair would stay this colour unless I told you how I really felt…”

“That was … tricky of him,” he chose his words carefully. “Though Slytherin green looks quite festive, as it turns out … especially on you.” He grinned. “Is it bad that I’m feeling quite proud of him? Georgie’s even sneakier than I thought.”

Hermione tipped her head to one side. “Hmmm. I guess he’s been quite clever. Puts me in a difficult position, though.”

“It does?” Fred raised his eyebrows. He loved that she seemed to want to play. 

She held his gaze and nodded slowly. “I mean, what if I decide to tell you anyway but end up looking like a fool?”

Fred shook his head vehemently. “Never, love.” He reached for her hand. “Telling someone how you feel about them is never a bad thing. And, if it helps, well let’s say I’m experiencing some feelings that I didn’t realise I still had until a few minutes ago. How about we do what Georgie wants, the way he wants, and I promise to tell you my feelings if you tell me yours?”

Hermione began to softly play with the long fingers that were now entwined with hers. Fred didn’t seem to mind; his fingers began to move as he stroked hers in return, and she took heart from that.

“Well…”

Fred looped his other arm further around her, pulling her closer. “Go on, love. Tell me…”

She looked into his eyes. If she was going to do this, she may as well do it properly. And without him wearing a silly paper hat, so she reached up and gently pulled that off his head before continuing.

“I like you, Fred Weasley. A lot. I’ve liked you for quite a long time.” She stroked the back of his hand and took a deep breath, realising that this wasn’t quite the while truth. “More than like. I love you, like I love your whole family, but with you it’s different from how I love the rest of your brothers.” Her free hand dropped his hat and moved to cup the handsome face that she had cried all over when she thought it held the ghost of his last smile. “You’re the real reason I wouldn’t pursue a relationship with Ron, and even now no-one else stands a chance because I can’t imagine feeling this way about any other wizard. I thought my life had come to an end when I thought yours had, and yet even after all of that I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

That was more than Fred had expected; more than anyone had ever given him, and he didn’t know what to say. That was a first. And it was an unfortunate first, because Hermione started to panic that it was too much; that he might be embarrassed or shocked or not as interested as she had hoped, and in truth he was instead blown away by her confession and by the sight of her curly green hair turning slowly back to its natural brown. 

Hermione’s eyes clouded over; she dropped her hand and began to stammer an apology. “Fred, I’m sorry … please don’t be weird with me if you don’t feel the same … I don’t have a family of my own anymore, and that’s why I didn’t want to tell you the depth of my feelings even after all that … I couldn’t bear to lose my place in yours…”

“Stop, love … relax … it’s OK,” he caressed her face with his hand. “You’re going to be OK. Can you stay calm while I tell you how I feel?”

She gave a nod as he stroked her hair.

“OK. Well I have to be honest and say I hadn’t connected things in the way George had until I saw his film, because otherwise I’d have tried to sweep you off your feet a long time ago … but I really liked you too for a term or two, back in my sixth year. But Ron liked you and … well there’s a code, you know, amongst brothers.”

She didn’t know, actually, but she murmured an encouraging noise anyway in the hope that he would continue.

“And now… Well, love, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than officially release us from this chain and then stay attached to you for Christmas and into the new year even without it, if you’d like that?”

Hermione needed to clarify exactly what he was suggesting. “Are you saying you’d like to give us a try, Fred? As in a romantic try?”

He smiled as he reached for her face. “I think we can do better than a try, love. I’d like to be your wizard, and I’d like you to be my witch. I reckon we know each other well enough already to skip all that silly dancing around dates and definitions and just decide we’re together ... if that’s what you’d like too?”

Hermione’s “yes” was almost a whisper, but Fred was watching her mouth so closely that it didn’t matter in the least. Tentatively, he leaned towards her. “I’m going to kiss you properly now ... shall we see if we can kiss well enough this time to break Georgie’s spell?” 

He didn’t think she’d be skittish, but he couldn’t be certain. 

Hermione slowly nodded in agreement as Fred leaned in closer and gently touched his lips to hers. A tiny bit of pressure and she parted her own lips with a quiet “oh”. Butterflies were skipping in her tummy and her head couldn’t quite process the enormity of what she knew was going to happen. So, for once, she turned her thinking brain off and allowed herself to just feel.

As the kiss progressed into something deeper, which was at once new and old and achingly familiar, the mistletoe chain slipped off as it released from their wrists and slid across their thighs. Hermione wriggled herself around in Fred’s lap so that she was straddling him, and his arms tightened around her as he brought her body closer to his own. They took advantage of their newfound physical freedom to wrap their arms more closely around each other. Fred smiled into Hermione’s lips and his tongue moved to explore inside her mouth. She moaned softly, weaving her fingers into his soft red hair, and kissed him with all the feeling that she had ever had for the man in her arms.

A couple of floors below them, a huge grin crossed George Weasley’s face, making his mother wonder what he was up to. He had placed an additional charm on the mistletoe chain which heated up a coin in his trouser pocket to let him know when they had watched the video and then kissed deeply enough to break the spell. Unable to come up with a suitable explanation for his excited response on top of being unwilling to explain the strange antics of Molly’s clock, he was enlisted into icing two dozen more gingerbread men in the hope that it would keep him out of trouble for a bit. 

He was happy to do it, though. And when his favourite witch (Angelina aside) and his favourite wizard finally came downstairs twenty minutes later with normally coloured hair and their hands entwined, he leapt into the air with a shout of joy. Grabbing his mother, he began to dance her around the kitchen, finally turning her to show her the sight that he knew was going to make her Christmas too; her middle son standing right behind her adopted daughter with his arms wound tightly around her waist, his chin on her shoulder, his cheek pressed to hers and two happy faces holding expressions which clearly told the world that they were now together.


	8. Chapter 8

It took almost an hour for the entire Weasley family to gather, realise what had happened and stop talking about their newest couple long enough to begin the Christmas Eve party for real. Molly and George’s squeals were loud enough to get the attention of Harry, Ginny and Ron, and Fred was immensely relieved that the only thing that Ron had to say on the matter was, “about bloody time you picked a Weasley man, Hermione.” 

Charlie had watched the scene from the doorway and, unsure of how Ron really felt about this new development, slapped his youngest brother on the back, saying, “you and me taking Romania by storm at New Year as the only surviving single Weasleys then?” Ron had loudly signed up to that plan and the two of them had left the room in search of firewhisky. 

Hermione had let go of Fred long enough to press herself to George in a heartfelt hug. “Thank you for my lovely Christmas present, George,” she whispered into his ear.

“Thank you for saving my brother’s life, Hermione,” he whispered back, taking her wand from the pocket of his robes and slipping it into her hand.

“I have a question though?”

“What’s that then, love?” George held her gaze, the grin never leaving his face.

“Why didn’t Fred’s hair change colour too?”

George threw his head back in a loud laugh, which made Fleur ‘shhhh’ him from the other side of the room as she indicated towards her sleeping baby. He lowered his voice a bit. “Do you think he would have cared, Hermione?”

Her face changed as she considered George’s words. “No, I suppose not…”

“It would have been a waste of energy, love. And besides,” he added with a wink, “I didn’t want to risk changing his looks and making you fancy him any less, just when I had a chance to get you two hooked up!”

Once Fred had reclaimed his own wand from George, the two of them wandered back into the living room, hand in hand, where they commandeered the armchair next to Bill and Fleur who were enjoying a peaceful cuddle after getting Victoire to sleep. Fred and Hermione settled themselves down and began chatting to Arthur, who was trying to add a few final muggle touches to the Christmas tree.

After that, the news spread quickly through the rest of the family and, by the time the traditional Christmas Eve buffet dinner was served, Molly had officially rearranged the table seating so that Fred and Hermione were next to each other. Hermione was pleased to see that Ron genuinely seemed to be fine about the new development (albeit slightly the worse for wear, thanks to Charlie) and, although it felt slightly odd to be over the other side of the table and in between Fred and George rather than Ron and Harry, it was also lovely. She immediately enjoyed her new perspective, well aware of how much fun Fred and George had at mealtimes. As this particular meal was a buffet, it was a lottery as to which foods were safe and which would make one sprout an unwanted characteristic or new hair colour. It was no help to watch what Fred and George ate either; the food seemed to have been spiked randomly and, as George had illustrated earlier, the two of them didn’t mind being on the receiving end of their own products, especially if it would lure others into eating them. 

On the other side of George, Angelina leaned forward. “Welcome to the madness,” she smiled, her eyes sparkling. Hermione laughed, whispering a thank you to the older witch for playing her own part in bringing her and Fred together. 

George enjoyed regaling everyone with the story of what he had done and insisted on bringing the pensieve TV down to the living room while they were having a rest before dessert, wanting everyone to watch his efforts. At first Hermione wasn’t keen on this idea, concerned about what would happen when Ron saw what she had said to Fred about their kiss. But George whispered in her ear, “stop worrying … we made a family safe version with just music and no spoken words. The director’s cut will only ever be for you and Freddie, love.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house when he was done, and the tears led to a large number of toasts to absent friends who had been lost in the war before Arthur stood to thank Molly for her work on the food – both this evening and that which was to come – and request that dessert be followed by a huge effort from everyone to clean up and get The Burrow ready for the next day so that everyone could enjoy the rest of their evening. That activity lightened the atmosphere considerably, and Fred and Hermione volunteered to form a washing up squad with George and Angelina. They allowed George to escape for a few minutes to transfigure the boys’ bedroom back to normal and enlarge the beds, while Fred whispered to tell Hermione that he and George were staying at The Burrow for two or three nights and he would love it if Hermione would like to share his bed.

Her eyes grew large. “Will Angie and George be there too?” Angelina smiled and nodded at her.

“Yes, of course. And we’re only going to cuddle, before you ask. Though I may give you a goodnight kiss or three once we’ve said nox … if you’re lucky,” Fred winked. “Good clean Christmas kissing and snuggling; that’s all, love. And then waking up in each other’s arms on Christmas morning and opening our stockings with George and Angie before we come down here for breakfast and tree presents.”

“Won’t your mum know?” 

“Probably … she turns a blind eye at Christmas though. Puts a whopping great baby prevention charm over The Burrow and lets everyone get on with it. Didn’t you know?” Laughing, Hermione shook her head. “Is it a date, then?”

Hermione looked at Angelina, who smiled reassuringly and added, “It’ll be fun. Especially for Freddie. The last couple of years he’s had to put up with George and I cosying up while he slept alone on his side of the room. Thought he was going to ask to come into our bed last year, he was that sad and lonely!”

Fred flicked a tea towel at Angelina in response to that, and she simply raised her eyebrows and laughed at him. Sliding his long arms around Hermione’s waist, he kissed her lips and said, “please, love?”

“Of course,” she whispered, stroking his hair, which had fast become one of her favourite things to do once she had realised how soft it was. “I’d love to spend the night snuggling you, Fred.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the last chapter! I want to wish everyone a very happy and peaceful festive season and also say a big thank you to everyone who has left a positive comment on this; they really do help add fuel to the writing fire and keep me going :-) If you like this pairing and/or my writing, I have another finished fic of this length (Fred's Midwife) and an ongoing story (Fremione and the Weasleys) that you might also enjoy. Happy holidays, and may your festive season be as snuggly as the one that these two are going to share :-)

As Hermione brushed her teeth, she looked into the mirror, smiling to herself. She had spent quite a bit of the evening on Fred’s lap, as there were now significantly fewer seats than bottoms in the Weasley living room which meant Bill, Percy, Fred, George and Harry taking turns doubling up with their respective witches. Angelina was a bit less happy about this than Hermione, because George had insisted that it was only fair that he should sit on her lap for half of the evening. Then, the four of them had been on the winning side in a new wizarding quiz game, although a steward’s enquiry led by Percy was called to investigate the claim that the other team had been too distracted by the excitability of Victoire and Teddy, who kept scrambling over them to try to see what was already under the tree. Eventually, they had decided that it should be bedtime for everyone for the sake of the tiny ones and suggested a rematch the next day.

Putting her toothbrush in its usual slot and her clothes from the day back into her bag, Hermione surveyed herself in the mirror one more time. Her pink and white striped pyjamas weren’t the sexiest thing she owned, but then she hadn’t exactly been expecting this turn of events and she and Fred weren’t going to be alone, so perhaps her apparel was for the best. Leaving the bathroom, it felt strange to turn left and head to the twins’ bedroom rather than right and up the stairs to Ginny’s, but she also felt the bubbling excitement of a new beginning.

“Hey…” She turned to face Harry, who had called softly to her from the other side of the hallway. 

“Hi, Harry.”

“I just wanted to say I’m really happy for you.” He indicated the bedroom doors. “And also delighted to have your space in Ginny’s room tonight, but mostly happy for you…”

Hermione stepped forward and hugged him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Thank you, Harry. I’m pretty happy about it myself,” she smiled.

“Never knew George was that creative with mixing muggle and magical technology. Might have to get him working on more defence equipment for the aurors.” He grinned, pulling back to look in his friend’s eyes. “Will he be subject to some sort of punishment for transporting you without consent, though?”

Hermione moved away and chuckled. “I haven’t decided yet.” She tipped her head to one side. “Does the end justify the means? I’ll have to think on that one, and he can sweat it out while I do!”

Harry joined the laughter and hugged her once more before they went their separate ways.

When she tentatively opened the door to the boys’ room, Hermione saw that Angie and George were already in bed and that George’s long frame was leaning out over the end to hang their stockings on the bedposts. Molly had long ago created a series of clever charms which meant that everybody’s stocking presents would magically be transported into the correct garments once the occupants of the room were asleep, so they would all wake up to a few small presents in the morning. That had allowed Molly and Arthur a better night’s sleep on many a Christmas Eve over the years, although they did regret the year that they put a small potion making set in each of Fred and George’s stockings. They were awoken to the sound of the first of many explosions that would rock The Burrow over the next few years. Now Molly’s grandchildren were starting to benefit from her clever magic too. The first Weasleys of the next generation were starting to reach the age where they could enjoy opening stocking presents in their bedrooms before going downstairs for breakfast and their main presents under the tree. 

Hermione knew from previous years that Fred and George had almost certainly added a little twist of their own to this process. Last year, Ron’s stocking had mysteriously ended up in the attic with the top neatly blanket stitched together, and on the first Christmas morning that she had awakened at The Burrow Percy’s stocking had to be collected from the roof. Luckily it hadn’t rained overnight. 

“Over here, love. I’ve accioed your stocking from Ginny’s room.” Fred had made a mound of pillows at the end of the bed where his feet normally went, and he had also turned his quilt around. He had then scooched over to lie beside the wall, leaving room for Hermione to climb in beside him. She lifted the covers and climbed into Fred’s bed, smiling as he pointed to her stocking, which was hung next to his. 

“Is my stocking safe?” she asked, eyeing George’s wand, which was now pointing across the hall and making a series of complicated movements that she didn’t recognise.

“Totally,” Ange reassured her from across the room. “You’re in the inner circle now and you won’t generally get pranked. These two have plenty of people to inflict their tricks on and … well let’s just say they’ve realised that pranking their women can lead to the removal of certain favours…” She winked at Hermione, who blushed and laughed. 

“That’s good then,” Hermione replied. “Who’s getting stocking pranked tonight then?”

“Dad,” replied Fred and George in unison. 

“He loves his muggle plugs and electric cords…” George explained.

“So we got a few from a charity shop last week,” Fred spoke more softly as he nuzzled her ear.

“Yeah, and a knot spell book, so we’ll see how long it takes him to untangle them so he can get to his pressies!” George finished with a grin on his face.

“Brilliant,” Hermione congratulated them, moving further down into the bed. 

Even though she had spent hours cuddling him during the afternoon and evening, her tummy was doing flip flops as she nestled into Fred’s side and felt his arms come around her, holding her close as she settled her head onto the pile of pillows. “Are you OK? Comfy?” he whispered, and she nodded into his chest.

“I’m great, Fred, thank you.” She sighed.

“Yes … you are,” he punctuated his words with strokes and kisses, making her squirm a little with ticklishness. “Love the stripey PJs, by the way!”

“Shhh,” Hermione poked his side with her finger.

“Ow!”

She pulled a cheeky face. It was going to be important to learn to match Fred’s teasing, she could see. 

“Fred?”

“Yes, love?”

“Why are we sleeping the other way up from George and Angie? So we can see them to chat to them?”

Angelina let out a soft laugh. “No, it’s because Fred’s the more romantic twin.”

“Oi!” George complained from the other side of the room. “This is the normal way around, I’ll have you know! Our heads have always gone next to the window.”

“I know they have, love,” said his girlfriend. “But look what Fred did for Hermione while you were dicking around with wires…”

George sat back up as Fred lifted his wand. He turned off the main light and slowly opened the bedroom curtains so that they could watch snow fall from the sky in the darkness, gently illuminated by the soft glow of the fairy lights that he had placed around the window frame. Hermione murmured an ‘ooooh’ of delight. Within seconds, George and Angie had enlarged their pillows and turned themselves and their bedding around so that they could enjoy the sight as well.

As Hermione snuggled more deeply into Fred’s arms, she sighed in relief and happiness. Whatever was in her stocking or under the tree for her the next morning, she couldn’t imagine anything better than the experience of spending the first of what she already knew would be many Christmas Eves wrapped in the arms of her best ever Christmas present, Frederick Gideon Weasley, as they fell asleep together, patiently waiting for Christmas morning to come.

“Night, love,” Fred whispered, as he wove one hand into Hermione’s hair and gently lifted her chin into the other, capturing her lips with his own to give her the first of the Christmas eve goodnight kisses that he had promised…

Happy holidays 😊


End file.
